


Where the Dutchman Dwells

by tenaya



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1988-04-01
Updated: 1988-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenaya/pseuds/tenaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Liberator mysteriously breaks down when the crew sights a derelict spaceship--which may not be as derelict as they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Dutchman Dwells

# WHERE THE DUTCHMAN DWELLS

  


## by Tenaya

"And you just want to check Earth's outer perimeter defenses?" Jenna asked shrewdly.

"Yes," said Blake earnestly. "We'll need that information if we ever want to strike at Earth."

Jenna glanced at Avon, who was seated at his flight station. His head remained bowed as he silently studied his console. "Odd," she thought to herself. She rather expected the moody, dark–haired computer expert to offer some biting protest. When he didn't, Jenna took a quick survey of the other crew members present.

Cally nodded her head saying, "I believe Blake is right. We should scout what we are up against." The Auron was at Vila's weapon console since the thief was sleeping in his cabin. He had manned the watch that fell in the middle of the ship's night and had wandered off to bed an hour earlier.

"Just as well," Jenna thought. He'd only offer some silly protest to avoid going. Besides, he would more than likely go along with whatever Gan decides. The big man was becoming quite adept at keeping the troublesome thief in line. Sometimes, all Gan had to do was say 'Vila' sternly. It reminded Jenna of an old viditape she had once seen of a dog herding sheep by nipping at their heels. She twisted her head around so that she could see Gan at his position at the back of the flight deck.

The big man stared at Blake, who was standing in front of Zen. Satisfied with what he saw in the rebel leader's face, he too, nodded his head and said, "If you think that it is really necessary."

"Yes, absolutely essential," Blake quickly said.

"Count me in then."

"Right," Jenna said. She found herself looking again at Avon, but it was Blake who addressed him.

"Avon?" he questioned sharply.

The dark head came up to regard Blake steadily. "By all means. Let us go scout the perimeter defenses." His tone was mild.

Blake seemed momentarily disconcerted by the technician's easy acquiescence.

"Right, then. Zen," he commanded to the room at large.

++State course and speed.++

"Direct flight path to Earth. Standard by six."

++Confirmed.++

* * * * *

It was two days later when, by chance, the entire crew was present on the flight deck, Zen announced, ++Information.++

"Yes, what is it, Zen?" Jenna asked.

++Scanners indicate an uncharted nebula directly in LIBERATOR's flight path.++

"Scale and intensity?"

++Scale 14. Intensity 8.++

"Strange," puzzled Avon. He left the flight couch where he had been playing a board game with the others and manned his station. Jenna followed him there. He made a few adjustments and stared intently at his screen.

Blake waited. When it looked like Avon wasn't about to volunteer anything else, he said, "What's strange?"

Jenna glanced up from the detectors and said, "With a scale of 14, this nebula should have been listed on Zen's navigational charts."

"Perhaps it's new," Vila speculated.

Avon cast the thief a dark, annoyed look. Jenna briefly marveled at how ignorant her companions could be on such basic knowledge of deep space. "Oh, it's new all right; probably only one to two thousand years old." She stared sternly at Vila. "It still should be on the charts."

Blake suppressed a smile at the thief's expression and asked the pilot, "Do you see any reason why we can't go straight through it?"

She looked thoughtful. "It's big, but not that rough. These things can be unpredictable, though." At Blake's expectant expression, she added, "LIBERATOR should not have any problems."

"Zen," Avon ordered. "Activate main screen. Let us see what we're discussing."

The nebula was incredibly beautiful. It was the remains of a dying star that had exploded, sending out its super–heated inner gases in an incandescent, ever–expanding cloud of fantastic colors. Swirls of purple, pale lavender, green and pink warred with bold streaks of blood red. Ominous patches of pure black were scattered about, their ragged edges like ugly tears in a delicate and wispy fabric.

"It's beautiful…." Vila's hushed voice trailed off in awed surprise.

"And just as dangerous as it is beautiful," Jenna amended quietly. She was too practical, too experienced to be swayed by appearances.

Gan was thoughtful. "What are those dark areas, Jenna?"

"Masses of dust and solids. They block out the glow of the gases."

"Solids?" Vila echoed. "I thought stars were just gas."

Jenna said, "They all were, originally. Intense pressures are generated in a star and they cause fusion to take place among the atoms and form the heavier elements." She smiled at Vila's thoughtful expression. "Yes, Vila. There is enough gold, platinum, herculanium and other precious elements out there to make us all wealthy beyond even what you can imagine."

The thief gazed wistfully at the nebula, shook his head and said, "It'd take a lifetime to collect and it'd be hard work to do it." He sighed. "No, stealing is still quicker." His crewmates all either chuckled or shook their heads in amusement. Vila was an incorrigible larcenist.

Cally turned to ask Jenna, "Isn't a nebula very hot? What will happen to LIBERATOR when it is surrounded by such temperatures for as long as it will take to pass through the area?"

Jenna was suddenly serious again. "This is one reason why a nebula is so dangerous. The whole thing is quite warm, but there are hot spots of deadly temperatures. LIBERATOR is capable of dispersing a moderate heat build–up over a fairly long period of time. We should be all right as long as we are very careful to stick to a course that is fairly cool."

"Zen," said Blake. "How long would it add on to our flight time to Earth if we go around this nebula?"

++Two hundred fifty six hours.++

The rebel leader looked at Jenna. "Well?"

She was pleased that he was deferring the final decision to her, since she was the one most capable of judging the factors involved. "We go through. Zen, plot the safest course through the nebula and put it up on my screen for approval."

++Confirmed.++

The blond smuggler went to the pilot's position and concentrated on the console. "Course acceptable. Proceed at Standard by five."

++Confirmed.++

Jenna looked up and said to her companions, "This could still get a little rough. If you have anything laying about that could break, I suggest you go secure it."

* * * * *

Vila woke suddenly. He stared sleepily about his cabin, trying to pinpoint what had awakened him. He felt the ship shudder, ending with a sharp jolt. More turbulence. They had been through quite a few of those in the last six days as they traversed the nebula. He waited for a few moments longer, trying to decide if he should worry or not, then settled hack down to return to sleep. The others would take care of it, he thought drowsily.

Thus, he was totally relaxed when the ship gave a violent sideways lurch, sending the thief to the floor as his bed ceased to be beneath him.

He stared up into the blackness, completely disoriented. He listened intently, for the first time aware that the ever present hum of the ventilation system had stopped. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he fell over on his other side as he pushed off too hard for the now almost negligible gravity. A cry of pure fright escaped him as his momentum carried him into the wall.

He panicked. With desperation, he crawled as quickly as he could on the floor until he located the door. Bracing himself against it, he pushed and pried, trying to open it. It wouldn't budge. It was with shock that he suddenly realized that maybe it wouldn't open because there might not be an atmosphere out there.

"Oh, no…please, no," he pleaded into the darkness. Someone had to be out there, he told himself, trying to ward off another panic attack. Someone would come and get him out. He tried not to think of the alternative: the LIBERATOR fatally disabled and the rest of the crew dead. There were many ways to die in space, and all of them were ugly. "Someone will come," he repeated to his failing courage. He huddled in on himself, knees held tightly to his chest as he waited.

* * * * *

Gan had just arrived at the galley looking for a snack when the ship jerked around him. He was slammed into the wall, bruising his shoulder. Looking about in the darkness, he realized that LIBERATOR was powerless. Alarmed, he headed back to the flight deck. He had not gone far when he suddenly remembered that Vila was not up there with the others. He turned toward the crew quarters, trying to find his way as best he could in the disorienting blackness and partial gravity.

It was difficult to tell how far he'd gone when he heard a muffled voice crying out in alarm. He followed the cries right to Vila's door.

"Vila!" he shouted. "I'm here. I'll get you out. Just calm down. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, yes! I can hear you. I can't get out!" Vila sounded panicked.

"Look, I'm going to try to shove the door back. Can you help? Are you hurt?"

"No, I don't think so. I think I can help."

"Good. Now remember to push in the right direction so we aren't working at cross–purposes," Gan added helpfully.

"Yes, yes…." The thief sounded annoyed. Gan smiled to himself; irritating Vila was the quickest way to take the thief's mind off his worries. He placed his hands against the raised contours on the door and braced himself for a powerful shove.

"It's moving! Just a…little more…." Vila's voice was thick with his exertion. "There! I'm coming through; don't let go!"

Suddenly, Gan felt Vila's hands on his arm and shoulder. They gripped at him tightly. "Are you all the way out?" Gan wanted to double check before he let go of the door.

"Yes." Vila's voice was weak with relief.

Gan let go and the door slid shut, sealing with a sharp click. He put out his hand to Vila, to steady himself as the low gravity made his movements unsteady. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly as he felt the smaller man shiver.

"Yes. Gan, what about the others?" It was almost a whisper.

"I'm sure they're all right; I left them up on the flight deck before all this happened." He gave Vila a sturdy pat to the back. "Let's go and check on them."

Vila's hands tightened their hold on him. Gan added, "I think it would be a good idea if we held on to each other; it'll be safer that way in the dark. All right?"

"Yes." Vila sounded grateful.

Gan put his hand on the thief's shoulder. "You lead; I'll follow."

It was apparent that Vila had been badly scared by the accident. If a little physical reassurance was what it would take to help the thief keep his head, Gan was not averse to supplying it. Besides, at the moment, with the LIBERATOR dead around him, the touch of another human being was comforting to him, too. As they approached the flight deck, they could hear Jenna's tense voice.

"Orac where exactly is the damage?"

"Zen has isolated the source of the damage to the main drive and to the energy bank couplings."

Gan and Vila stood at the entrance to the flight deck. It was faintly illuminated by a weak glow from Zen's fascia and the twinkling of Orac's fairy lights. They could barely make out the shapes of Jenna and Cally as they stood near the little computer.

"The drive will have to wait; we need the energy banks back first. Cally, can you relay that priority to Blake?" Jenna asked.

"Yes. I'll do it now."

"What's happened?" Vila asked with quiet fear.

"We've been holed by debris, but we are not losing any atmosphere."

Gan asked, "Can we help?"

"Good to see that you are both all right. Blake and Avon have gone down to see if they can help get some power back on line. Without power, the automatic repair circuits can't function. Orac says that Zen is still with us, but is unable to communicate without more power." She was quiet for a moment. "I might need you to go collect spacesuits for each of us. We'll soon need temperature control and oxygen if we are to survive for very long." The smuggler's voice was cool and decisive.

"Right. Come on, Vila. We might as well get them now."

As Gan put a comforting hand on Vila's shoulder, the lights flickered on and settled down to a dim glow. Their worries eased as they felt heavier with the return of the artificial gravity. The faint hum of circulating air vibrated around them.

Jenna glanced at Zen's brighter appearance. "Zen, status!"

++Energy bank five back on line. Life support systems operating at twenty percent power. Estimate energy bank three functional in ten minutes.++

"Excellent. Keep life support at current levels and divert additional power into the automatic repair circuits as it becomes available."

++Confirmed.++

Cally walked over to Vila's flight position and switched the intercom on.

"Blake, Avon — can you hear me? Please respond."

After a few moments, Blake's voice came faintly through the system. "Cally, do you have any power up there?"

"Yes. We have limited life support and Zen is back with us. He says we will soon have another energy bank on line. Do you need any help down there?"

"No. We bypassed a damaged relay to get the one energy bank working, but now there's little we can do here. The automatics are kicking in and I think we'll just be in the way if we stay— What?"

In the background they could just barely hear Avon's annoyed voice. "I said, you're certainly no help at the moment. Try pointing the torch here so I can finish this connection."

"Yes, well…we will meet you on the flight deck when we've finished here. Out."

"That sounded normal enough," Jenna said with a smile. "Zen, activate the main screen and give me a 180 degree scan of the forward port area; I want to check the position of that wreck."

++Confirmed.++

"Wreck?" Vila repeated weakly.

The screen activated and the overpowering sight of the nebula flooded the flight deck. Greens and light blues swirled and faded into purples and crimson as the scan progressed, the colors reflecting on and bathing the stunned crew. There was a gasp from Vila's direction when the derelict came into view, but Jenna could sympathize with the thief; she had never seen such terrible magnificence before either.

The ship was close, close enough to count the endless pockmarks on her sides from meteor strikes, and to read the nearly illegible name on her side. Basically bullet shaped, the ship tilted at a crazy, nose down angle that accentuated her ruinous state. The solar sails were fully extended off the bow, twisted and torn by forces unknown. Its mutilated skeletal ribs blossomed radially out off the nose of the ship, the fine mesh between either missing, or ripped and ragged. Luminous patches danced across the tattered mesh as the charged particles of the nebula were drawn to the conductive sails.

"My god, she's old…." Jenna whispered at the hellish sight. She continued a little louder, "Do you see the solar sails? They were standard on the first interstellar flights. That way if the ship broke down, they would have some way of limping back to a port since it was unlikely that another ship would happen by."

There was silence while the crew took in the ominous sight, then Jenna said, "Zen, confirm that we are drifting toward that wreck."

++Confirmed. Estimate collision will occur in one point seven eight hours.++

"We are going to crash into that?" Vila's voice was high–pitched.

"Not so much crash as just nudge hard," Jenna said thoughtfully. She turned to look closely at Vila, the first time noticing that he was dressed in pajamas, his hair still tousled from his interrupted sleep.

"Don't worry, Vila. LIBERATOR is capable of withstanding far more stress than that." She gave him a reassuring smile. He responded with a trusting, grateful expression, but she could tell he was still worried.

They were startled by voices echoing in from the hall, but it was just Blake and Avon returning.

"—according to Zen, we are approximately 39 hours from the edge. I would imagine that— What is that?" Avon interrupted himself to ask as he entered the flight deck.

"A derelict. We are going to drift into it in just under two hours," said Jenna.

"Wonderful. What else can go wrong?" Avon was sarcastic.

"I don't know; let's ask Zen," said Blake. "Zen, status."

++Energy banks three and five functioning at a combined power reserve of 72%. Estimate four point two hours until all damage is repaired. Life support levels currently stable at twenty percent power.++

"That's better than I expected. Zen, can we assist the automatics with the repairs?" asked Blake.

++Negative. High radiation levels are measured in the damaged area.++

"So we've nothing to do except wait until the repairs are made," Blake mused to himself as he stared at the view screen. "Orac, what do you have on a ship named Stellar Breeze, circa early interstellar era?"

"I am receiving interference on my carrier waves. I will inform you when I have the information," Orac fussed.

"Fair enough. Zen, do we have enough power to operate the teleport?"

There was a distinct pause before Zen answered. ++Confirmed.++

"Is anyone interested in a little exploring while we wait for the next six point two nine hours?" Blake looked challengingly at Avon.

"On that?" Vila sounded horrified.

"Why not," Avon stated, though who exactly he was answering was a little vague.

Blake seemed pleased. He looked next at the pilot. "Jenna?"

Jenna seemed strangely disconcerted. "No…I don't think I should leave LIBERATOR right now." Cally stared intently at the pilot. "Jenna, is there something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong. I just feel an odd reluctance to leave." She seemed puzzled.

Blake said, "It is probably better that someone stays here. Cally?"

"No. I, too, would prefer to stay."

"Don't tell me, let me guess: you also 'feel' something, correct?" Avon asked sarcastically as he came around to stand in front of the Auron.

Cally gazed mildly at the technician, a strange little smile impishly playing on her face. "No. Not at the moment," she said innocently.

As Avon stared levelly at the Auron warrior, Blake said, "Suit yourselves. Vila, we might need your skills over there. Go get dressed and meet us in the teleport room. What about you, Gan?"

Vila interrupted the big man's response with a quiet, "No."

"What?" asked Blake, surprised.

The thief's eyes were wide. "I said 'no'. I don't want to go."

"What a surprise. What's your excuse this time?" drawled Avon.

Vila flashed a quick glare at the computer expert then stared hard at the floor. "I just don't want to go. Why does everybody get a choice but me, eh?"

Blake regarded the thief thoughtfully. "Because not everyone can open locks like you can. But you're right, Vila; it is your choice to go or not. I would like to know why you don't want to, though."

Vila shifted uncomfortably, aware that all were watching him. "It's because of the stories."

"What stories?" Blake was curious.

Vila grimaced. "The stories I heard as a kid about…ghost ships."

Avon arched his eyebrows. "Ghost ships?" He turned to Blake and continued scornfully, "This is what happens when society chooses not to educate the Delta grades. Instead of something useful, his mind has been filled with superstitious nonsense!"

Vila reddened under the verbal assault, but stayed quiet. Gan cleared his throat. "I'd like to come with you, Blake. A bit of exploring on an ancient ship sounds like it might be interesting."

The rebel leader was still curious, though. He'd never heard of these stories and wanted to know more. "Is there more to these stories, Vila?"

"Don't encourage him, Blake," said Avon.

Vila was embarrassed, but the technician's ridicule caused his anger to flare. "The legends say that they are haunted, and that disaster will fall on anyone who sights them," he said to Blake.

"You're going to blame the LIBERATOR's being holed in the middle of a nebula on just seeing that derelict?" asked Avon.

"Vila," Blake interrupted. "That sounds like stories left over from the time when men roamed the Earth's oceans in wooden boats. This is deep space. It's not quite the same thing."

"Yes, I know," Vila muttered.

"You still don't want to come?" asked Blake.

"No, I'm staying here."

"All right. Cally, would you come and teleport us across?"

"Yes, of course." As the four of them left, Jenna stared at the now miserable thief. "Vila," she said, once they were alone.

"Yes…." he said tiredly.

"I would like to hear the old stories." At his skeptical lock, she added, "Call it professional interest." She walked over and stood next to him. "I've heard a few strange tales from other pilots; perhaps I just want to add yours to my collection."

"You're sure you're not just looking for a good laugh?" He seemed bitter.

"Of course not." She moved over to the flight couch and sat down. "Come here and tell me what you know."

He followed, sitting uneasily across from her. "I didn't know you were interested in old tales."

Jenna gave him a mysterious smile that made her sparkle. "There are many things about me that you don't about," she said playfully.

Vila relaxed then, and arched his eyebrows. "We all have our little secrets, eh?"

"I knew you'd understand."

"Well," said Vila, leaning toward her, "one of the stories says the captain of the ship scoffed at God, tormented and murdered his men. God cursed him and he was doomed to roam forever, searching for a crew. The variation I particularly liked is where he has to play dice with the devil every night for his soul."

She eyed him thoughtfully. Religion had been outlawed after the Nuclear Wars. Mankind had been forced to give it up as a luxury it couldn't afford when religious intolerance had sparked yet another war — one that Mankind had barely survived — with the remnants retreating under the domes to live. "Do you believe in God, too, Vila?" she asked curiously.

He was cautious. "Never, never doubt what people aren't sure about," he replied tentatively.

"Covering all bets to he on the safe side?" she asked, amused.

"It works…most of the time." He paused, then asked carefully, "Uh, Jenna? Why didn't you want to go with them?"

The smuggler was quiet as she considered his question. "Did Blake or Avon ever tell you what happened when we first boarded the LIBERATOR?" she asked.

Vila shook his head, puzzled by the change in topics. "Not really; neither of them likes to tell stories. They did say that Zen read your mind."

"It was more than that; it was as if we were…one. Ever since then, at times, I've felt in tune with the ship. As if there was still some connection between us." As she talked, a remote look came into her face. It made Vila's skin crawl and he nervously glanced around the dim flight deck, noticing the dark shadows that pulsated in the uncertain light from the nebula.

"Um, you said 'us'…that makes it sound like Zen is alive." At her sharp look, he said, "Do you think he is, then? Organic, I mean?"

"Yes, I do," she said simply. "And I'll tell you something else, now that I think about it. Zen has tried to warn us about dangers before — remember that ship we brought on board, the one with the aliens in cryogenic suspension?"

He nodded, his eyes wide.

"Zen was distinctly uncooperative when we tried to investigate the ship. I get the same feeling from Zen about this."

"Why didn't you tell them?" Vila asked worriedly.

"I knew that they would go anyway. Blake and Avon like hard facts."

Vila sighed. "You're right, of course."

"Well, let's see what our intrepid explorers are up to," she said, getting up and walking to Avon's console. She activated a switch. "LIBERATOR to Stellar Breeze, come in, please." She waited.

Cally came onto the flight deck, looking worried. "Have you been able to raise them?" she asked.

"No. Did they check in after teleporting?" Jenna was concerned.

"Yes, but the signal broke up as they were talking to me."

Jenna walked over to Orac. "Orac, have you been listening?"

"Of course!"

"What is your evaluation?"

"There is an energy field blocking communications."

"Cause? And is the effect permanent?" Cally asked.

"The cause is unknown and it is difficult to predict if the effect will recede. It is also blocking teleport capability."

"You mean we can't get them hack?!" Vila was horrified.

"Exactly!" said Orac. The thief turned to Jenna. "What are we going to do?" he demanded.

She turned and stared at the derelict ship on the screen. "There's only one thing we can do: we'll just have to dock with that."

* * * * *

The teleport deposited the trio in what must have been the ship's common room. They turned slowly in their bulky spacesuits and examined their surroundings. The overhead lighting panels that still functioned flickered and pulsated as, outside the ship, the charged particles danced across the solar sails, energizing the ship's power with unexpected bursts. The vessel's artificial gravity was also still functioning, but it varied as the power did, causing a slightly nauseous sensation in the men as their weight fluctuated.

Gan consulted a hand analyzer. "Oxygen concentration is at 18% with a total atmospheric pressure barely within normal limits; it should be acceptable, if a little on the thin side. Temperature is slightly under 60 degrees. All in all, it should be livable." Very carefully, he slipped off his helmet and took a deep breath. "Not bad," was his judgment, and the others followed suit.

Blake brought his teleport bracelet up to his lips. "Cally, we're down and safe. The ship still has a viable atmosphere."

"Do you…ait on standby?" she asked. The middle of the message was garbled.

"Cally, your signal is breaking up. Can you hear me?" Blake waited, but only silence was heard. He glanced at the others. "Let's hope it's temporary."

Two corridors exited the room and they could see only a little way down them in the uncertain light. "Do we split up?" Gan wanted to know.

"No!" Blake and Avon answered simultaneously. The rebel leader grinned and said, "It is pretty eerie, isn't it?"

Avon smiled slightly. "Perhaps it is fortunate that Vila stayed behind after all. Let's try that one," he said, pointing at one of the exits.

With a nod, Blake took the lead, cautiously advancing, the others behind him. They passed a number of closed doors and a couple of dark, intersecting passageways that they ignored. The hallway dead–ended at the bridge. They stood at the entrance, hesitating as they took in the gloomy chamber.

The walls were covered with banks of switches and screens; chairs were at the different stations. Indicator lights at various places flickered weakly.

Blake moved along one curved wall, hand trailing behind him on a console. "This stuff is ancient…." he mused. "I wouldn't be surprised to find a few transistors and chips inside."

Avon was leaning on a table on the other side of the room, staring at a set of lights that seemed to be consistently active. Putting down his helmet, he manipulated a knob and threw a few switches. "Blake, these controls still appear to be somewhat functional."

"Really?" Blake was interested and came to stand behind the computer expert. "What position would you guess this is?"

"How would I know? Ancient ship design is not one of my specialties." Avon moved off into the dimness to examine the rest of the room.

Gan moved into Avon's vacated spot, studying the controls. Presently, he sat down for a better view.

Blake scanned the room again. "You know, it doesn't look like there is enough hardware in here to run a ship of this size."

Avon came to a stop beside him. "I agree. There must be an auxiliary control room, where more of the computers are. It should be close by." He went to the entranceway and paused, eyeing a couple of nearby doors. The one on the left was half open; he walked up to it and peered in. "I think I've found the computer room, Blake. I'm going in for a little while."

The rebel leader watched him squeeze through the door. "I'll join you presently," he called out and returned to Gan. "Have you discovered anything?"

Gan did not look up. "I think these controls are still working, but it's hard to tell."

Blake bent over, head close to Gan's as he watched the big man push a button. Both studied the result with intense interest. Consulting each other, they made steady progress in decoding the controls.

Avon, meanwhile, had discovered several banks of computers. He did know a little about the earlier computers; on a whim, he'd briefly studied the different generations and understood the principles involved. He was thorough in his approach to problems, if nothing else. Now, he hovered over one in particular, trying to recall specifics about it.

Suddenly, he felt another presence behind him. Tensing, he held his breath, listening intently. Absolute silence palpably threatened him. He whirled about, expecting…well, he wasn't sure. Staring hard into the failing and uncertain light, he realized that there was nothing in the room with him. He straightened up, releasing his pent–up breath. "I've been around Vila too much," he thought to himself. "Now he has me jumping at shadows." Taking a firmer grip on himself, he turned his back on the door again, ignoring the prickling between his shoulder blades. He was not going to allow himself to be scared by the thief's vivid imagination. This ship had been adrift for hundreds of years; nothing could exist onboard to harm him. Concentrating on the computer, he purposefully closed his mind to his uneasy feelings.

Behind him, one particular shadow separated itself from a wall. While the others flickered uncertainly, this one grew darker and more substantial as it approached its victim. It was nearly touching Avon when the technician spun about in alarm. The darkness enfolded him, smothered him, thick and heavy. His cry never left his throat; it was choked off at its conception. Falling to his knees, he tried to raise his hands to catch himself, but they wouldn't obey. Consciousness fled and his body slipped limply to the floor. The black shadow lifted from the still form, to hover menacingly above.

* * * * *

On board the LIBERATOR an hour had passed and the remaining three crewmen had put the time to good use. Jenna had Vila fetch spacesuits for all of them, with instructions to get dressed in the process. He had been reluctant to return to his cabin alone, so Cally had accompanied him. Once they were back on the flight deck, the pilot had gone over their course of action again and again until even Vila knew it completely.

She looked up at the view screen, knowing the time to act was near. "Zen, confirm that LIBERATOR is still without mobility."

++Confirmed. The drive will be functional in approximately three point two hours.++

Jenna took a big breath. "All right. Is everybody ready?"

"Yes," Cally answered as Vila nodded his head and mumbled something.

"Good. Vila, remember to keep the docking conduit only partially extended and be prepared to retract it quickly if this maneuver goes wrong."

The thief, seated at his usual position, gripped the controls tightly. "Right."

Jenna looked at Cally, standing next to her at the command console. "At this distance, it won't need much power on the tractor beam to get results. Work it very carefully."

The Auron nodded.

Jenna intently examined the ship on the screen, trying to judge its mass. This was going to be tricky, but if she was careful, she would be able to turn the derelict with the tractor beam until its hatch was facing the LIBERATOR's. It was up to her to aim the beam so that the ship would rotate toward her. It ought to work. She'd be happier though if she had heard of someone else doing this before.

* * * * *

Blake straightened and stretched, giving Gan a clap to his shoulder. "Well done! I never would have thought that we could get any information out of this mess." They had managed to call up different schematics and blueprints on to a screen. "We have to get Avon to look at this." Blake was genuinely pleased with their efforts, and he went to the entranceway.

"Avon!" he called. "You should see—" He stopped when he saw that the door on the left was now closed. Walking up to it, he tried to push it back. "Avon?" he said. "Avon! Can you hear me?"

Gan appeared by his side. "Did he go in there?"

"Yes. Avon! Are you in there?" Blake shouted at the door. There was no answer.

"Should we try and force it?"

Blake put his hands on his hips and stared hard at the door. "No, not yet. Let's try the communicators first." He held his bracelet next to his mouth. "Avon, can you hear me? Where are you?" When that failed, he tried a slightly different apprcach. "LIBERATOR, do you read me? Jenna, teleport us back."

"Well?" Gan asked when there was no answer.

"Right. Now we try and force the door," Blake said determinedly. Stepping up to the door, he placed both hands against it and started to shove. He gave a cry of pain and surprise as he leapt back, cradling his hands to his chest.

"What's wrong?" Gan was puzzled and concerned.

"The door…it's frozen! I've never felt anything that cold before!"

"Let me see them," ordered Gan, motioning to the rebel leader's hands. He held the right hand as he examined it. "The skin is intact; just some slight tissue damage, I'd say." The big man turned to the door and cautiously touched the wall on either side of it. "Warm. Very odd."

Blake glared at the door. "Let's see if we can find another way in."

* * * * *

"All right. Now Cally, switch the beam onto the stationary mode — that will keep both ships steady. Vila, finish the connection." Jenna relaxed into her seat as Vila carefully extended the docking tunnel to the other ship's hatch.

"It's locked on," Vila said. He turned and gave the two women a big smile. "We did it!"

"Yes, we did." Jenna was pleased. "You both did well. Now, I suggest you and Cally get into the suits before you go across. It is always better to be overly safe in situations like this."

"Eh…are you sure that you don't want me to stay while you go across, Jenna?"

As she hesitated, Cally said, "No, she should stay, Vila. I can now feel the presence of something on that ship and I think it wants Jenna."

The thief turned a horrified expression on Cally. "What?! When did all this happen?" He leapt to his feet and came around to stand next to the two women. "You both think that there is something nasty over there and you want me to go investigate it? I'm not going to go."

"Vila, I'll be with you and will protect you."

Vila swallowed hard.

"We have to find the others and I don't think it is a very good idea to send Cally alone, do you?" Jenna said.

"But suppose there's a ghost?"

"Try not to pick its pocket," she said with a smile.

"Very funny." He did not sound amused, but at least it got him moving in the right direction.

Before too long, they were standing in front of the ship's hatch. Jenna handed Cally a soft–edged marker. "Ship design can be confusing, use this to mark the way." She glanced at Vila. "That way I'll be able to follow you, if necessary." With one last check of their helmet fastenings, she opened the hatch and stood back. "I'll give you two hours before I'll come after you, all right?"

Cally nodded her head. She gripped Vila's upper arm and started across the long, beige–colored tunnel.

* * * * *

Blake and Gan were back at the console studying the screen.

"This has to be a ventilation shaft," said Blake, tracing a line on the schematic.

"It looks like it connects with the one in this room." Gan stood and examined the wall on the opposite side of the room. "There it is." He reached up and with some effort, popped the grill off the vent.

"Damn," said Blake. "It's too narrow for either of us. I bet one of the others could make it, though."

"I might as well try to contact them again," said Gan, bringing up his bracelet.

"LIBERATOR, can you read me? Come in, please."

They were both surprised when Cally answered almost immediately. "Gan! Where are you? Vila and I are on board trying to find you."

"We are on the flight deck. Did you teleport over?"

"No. We've decked the LIBERATOR with this ship."

Blake raised his eyebrows in surprise, then said, "Look, Avon appears to have got locked in a room nearby. I think we'll need your help in getting him out. We'll wait here for you."

"All right. Out."

Blake glanced over at Gan. "Things are looking up. I didn't even know that LIBERATOR could deck with something like this. Might as well try that door again…I still can't understand how it can be that cold."

* * * * *

Cally and Vila had removed their helmets as it was cooler and easier to communicate with them off. Traveling slowly through the flickering corridors was eerie. The Auron carefully marked each intersection, but Vila noticed that lately, she was glancing back uneasily as she did it. It made him nervous and his apprehension began to grow. When she turned to walk backwards with her gun out covering their trail, he stopped and grabbed her arm.

"What is it? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know," he pleaded, his voice fearful.

"Something is back there," she said, tight–lipped.

They stood close together, gazing down the long, dimly lit hallway. The shadows danced and lengthened until one in particular seemed to absorb all light. The passageway was now black, totally and completely.

Vila started. "What's that?" he asked, alarmed.

Cally heard it then: a low, slow beating noise, coming from the end of the hall. It steadily increased in loudness, coming closer, every beat a threat. The ship around them vibrated with the powerful pounding.

Vila could stand it no longer when he sensed the source of the beats were about upon him. He turned and ran, completely panicked.

"Vila!" Cally cried as she spared a glance after him. She quickly turned hack to face the danger, somehow aware that if she kept her nerve, the presence couldn't harm her. The noise was deafening, surrounding her, but still she held her ground.

With one last furious beat, the noise stopped. The deathly silence was almost as alarming as the pounding. She waited.

Slowly, the lights flickered back on. Whatever it was had left. She turned, made a mark on the wall, and started out after Vila. She hoped the thief hadn't gone far; this ship was dangerous and she considered Vila rather defenseless.

* * * * *

Vila bolted down the halls, mindlessly choosing the corridors that were better lit in his flight. Unfortunately, this led him to a dead end. He skidded to a stop, then darted through an open door. It was an empty storage room with plenty of cupboard space. The thief chose a lower shelf to hide himself in, a sheet of webbed nylon covering the entrance. He huddled inside and brought up his bracelet.

"Jenna!" he whispered urgently. "Teleport, now!"

She answered quickly. "I'm here, Vila. What's wrong? Have you found them yet?"

"No, I haven't found them and now I've lost Cally. Jenna, this is a ghost ship. Please, bring me back. I'm scared!"

There was a slight pause before she answered. "Orac says the teleport is still being blocked. Your best bet is to find the others. They will—"

Hearing something outside the room, he interrupted her. "Someone's coming. Out." He held his breath, listening intently.

Footsteps. The sound of somebody running, their pace uneven as if they were exhausted. Could it be Cally, he wondered? But the gait didn't sound quite right to be her. He waited. The footsteps paused at the doorway then ran into the room, coming to rest against Vila's hiding place. He was nearly ready to peek when he heard another sound. This time it was a heavy, dragging noise. It scraped into the room. A terrible scream rent the air as Vila's hiding place was jarred by a powerful impact. There was a short, furious struggle, then a terrible silence. He heard a dull, wet crunch just beyond the nylon cloth. The dragging noise slid away toward the hallway, sounding heavier.

His muscles had contracted in terror. Vila drew in short, ragged breaths, his reason totally submerged by a new level of panic and fright. "Could it have been Cally?" he thought frantically to himself. "Dear God, please no."

The dragging noise stopped, then started back toward Vila's hiding place. The thief quit breathing, eyes widely dilated. It was coming after him!

The scraping stopped just outside his cupboard. The nylon cloth was ripped away and Vila screamed.

* * * * *

Cally cautiously trotted down the passageways, relying on her heightened mental awareness to follow the thief. She spotted his helmet laying halfway down one corridor and hurried over to pick it up. Hearing a soft noise through an open doorway, she edged up to it and peered around into the darkened room. A smile touched her face as she spotted a likely hiding place for Vila, but then she frowned. Was there something else in this room, too? Kneeling warily in front of the cupboard, she drew back the concealing cloth.

She was so startled by the thief's full–throated scream, she fell backwards.

"Vila!! What is it?" She scrambled back to him and grabbing his shoulders, pulled him out onto the floor. He lay there, stiff, his breath coming in spasms.

"It is gone now; I am here," she soothed. The thief responded to her voice, reason coming back into his eyes. He began to tremble from the reaction.

"What happened?" Cally asked gently.

It took Vila several attempts before he managed to sit up. He leaned weakly against the shelving and scanned the room. He looked back at the Auron. "Did you see anything in here?"

"No, nothing; but I did feel that presence again. Vila, I think it was trying to frighten you into calling Jenna for help. For some reason, it wants her aboard." She saw him start guiltily. "Did you call her?"

"Yes, but only to request teleport," he defended in a pleading tone. "I can't believe it; even ghosts pick on me."

She stared down at him, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Can we go back to the LIBERATOR?"

Cally shook her head. "You know we can't; not yet."

Vila gave a small sigh and staggered to his feet. "I'll be all right when I'm back on board the LIBERATOR," he said grimly.

She smiled fondly at his resilient nature. "I want you to stay close to me, understand?"

"After what just happened, it'd take a plasma bolt to get me away from you!"

* * * * *

Avon woke with a start. He stared confusedly about, wondering why he was lying on the floor. Sitting up, he put his hand to his head as the change of position caused a sharp pain behind his eyes. The memory of what happened flowed back into his awareness, and he stilled in alarm. He had been attacked by…something…and it had been evil.

He attempted to stand but fell back weakly, feeling drained and nerveless. He lay there for a few seconds, stunned by his helpless state. Taking stock, he felt uninjured, but he had a curious lack of energy. Dazedly, he brought his bracelet up.

"Blake, Jenna…can you hear me?" His voice was slurred.

"Avon!! Are you all right?" Blake answered quickly, his concern obvious.

The computer tech gave his head a sharp shake to clear the confusion from it, but only succeeded in making himself dizzy. "That is difficult to say. Can you come and help me up?" He didn't like asking for help, but he had decided that anything was preferable to being alone, helpless and easy prey for that thing if it should come back.

"Avon, we can't get to you at the moment; the door is frozen shut." Blake sounded worried.

"Teleport?"

Jenna's clear, cool voice came through his bracelet. "Teleport is still being blocked according to Orac."

Hearing her voice triggered something in Avon. "Jenna, you're not on this ship are you?" he asked, alarmed.

"No."

Avon relaxed a little. "Good, good…stay away…." he mumbled, somehow knowing that if she came aboard, the ghost would have all that it wanted. Avon was feeling its needs through the contact that was keeping him weak; it wanted — no, it needed him alive…for now.

He pushed himself back against the console and leaned heavily on its welcomed support. Bringing his knee up, he rested his arm on it and spoke into the bracelet again. "Blake, have you tried to bypass the door controls?"

There was no reply.

"Blake?" he questioned, then tensed as the cabin lights dimmed and remained low. The room chilled and he heard footsteps, slow and even; their sharp metallic clicks echoed as they paced across the empty floor between Avon and the door.

Avon swallowed and his heart began to race of its own accord. "Hurry, Blake," he urged, even though he knew that his communicator had probably gone dead.

* * * * *

Jenna thumbed the switch on her console. "Avon? Can you hear me?" She was worried; the technician had sounded very strange. It was not like him to be so vague. She tried again. "Blake, are you there? Respond, please."

Hearing no answer, Jenna leaned back in her chair, hands on her hips. She felt sure something was happening on the other ship. Suppressing the impulse to race over and help her shipmates, she directed her attention to the computers. "Orac, is the same force that is blocking communications also blocking the teleport?"

"Yes. The interference appears to be purposeful and selective."

Jenna considered this information carefully, then asked, "Is there any way we can negate this force?"

"It is unlikely at this time. Of course, with further opportunity to study this fascinating phenomenon, it may be possible in the future."

"Zen, have the automatics completed the repairs yet?"

++All power banks are back on–line. Main drive is functional at 85 percent, with complete function restored in one point one six hours.++

The blond smuggler made up her mind. "All right. Orac, I'll be down at the port airlock. Contact me if there is any change in the status of either ship. Understood?"

"Your instructions are simple enough." The little computer sounded offended.

"Glad to hear it; I wouldn't want to overtax you," she said dryly. She stood up, went to the flight deck's armory and withdrew a gun. Her friends were in danger and she had the feeling that she was too far away from her companions. Perhaps if she went a little closer, maybe she could make herself useful.

* * * * *

"Avon? Avon?!" Blake demanded. He shared a worried look with Gan.

"It's gone dead," said Gan.

"I wish you would rephrase that," Blake said testily.

The big man looked surprised, then sheepish. "Sorry."

"Damn." The rebel leader began to pace across the flight deck. "He didn't sound like himself. What could have—" He stopped and stared at the entranceway as he heard something. "Cally! Vila! In here!" he called as he recognized their voices.

His two shipmates hurried onto the flight deck; both were worried and anxious, and Vila was noticeably pale.

"Are we glad to see you!" said the thief, relieved.

Blake stepped up between them and took a firm hold of their elbows. He drew them with him as he walked over to the ventilation shaft. "Avon is trapped in the adjacent room. We can't shift the door and the only other entrance we can find is this ventilation duct. I think you both should be able to squeeze through here and help him out."

Cally gazed up at the opening, calculating the best way to tackle it. Vila, on the other hand, slipped out of Blake's grip and backed up, his eyes wide. "Wait a minute! Whaddaya mean he's trapped? Why can't he come to us?!" he demanded, suspicious and frightened.

Gan came up smoothly behind him, grabbed a handful of the thief's spacesuit and pushed him toward the ventilation duct. "We don't know why he can't come to us; that is what you will find out." The big man shifted his grip to the Vila's waist and easily lifted him up to the opening. "In you go, Vila. This is not negotiable." His tone brooked no nonsense.

The smaller man scrabbled awkwardly at the vent until he could pull himself inside of it. The fit was tight and the others could hear his mumblings as he wiggled about.

Surprised, Blake stared at Gan, trying to work out why Vila never seemed to oppose the big man. "How do you do that?" he asked, amazed and bewildered.

Gan smilled. "I don't try to analyze it, Blake. I just accept it." He turned to Cally. "Can I give you a hand?"

She nodded, stepping closer to the vent. "Should we try to get Avon out through here?" she asked of the rebel leader as she was lifted up.

"Unless Vila can open that door, this is your only way out."

"Right," the Auron firmly acknowledged.

* * * * *

Vila crawled unhappily through the snug and dusty shaft. "Of course it's dusty; never been in a place like this that wasn't dusty. Good thing I don't have allergies," he muttered to himself. "Not that anybody would care enough to ask—"

He stopped suddenly, listening intently. A hollow, wispy sound echoed deeply around him. It was the sound of breathing.

"Cally?" he pleaded. "Do you hear that?" He waited for her answer. 'Ahh!" he yelped when his foot was bumped.

"Get a move on, Vila. You can't stop here." Cally's voice floated up from behind him. He felt his foot pushed as she urged him on.

Vila grimaced and wriggled on, trying to ignore the ghostly respiration. "I wonder if ghosts have allergies…?"

Reaching the end of the duct, he peered about the dimly lit room. Avon was not in sight and the floor was a good six feet below him. The breathing continued, slow and even.

"Right. Fine. Here I am with no way down except to drop on my head." He swallowed hard, gathered his courage and carefully extracted himself from the tunnel. When his hips had cleared the opening, he pushed off, curling himself into a ball so that when he hit the floor, the energy of the fall would be dispersed as he rolled, hopefully avoiding injury to himself. He landed on his hack and tumbled across the room. Something soft and yielding stopped his progress and he twisted away, frightened anew. His head came up, eyes wild as they pierced the gloom. He found he was looking at a very startled Avon.

"What the hell—!" began Avon. "Where did you come from?" he finally finished.

"The vent. I've come to rescue you." The quaver in the thief's voice did not inspire confidence. On his hands and knees, Vila crept closer to the computer expert until his pale face hovered inches from Avon's. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

The technician stared across at the earnest, fearful face and started to shake his head at this unlikely turn of events. He stopped as the dizziness returned. Instead, he leaned forward and looped his arm over Vila's shoulders. "I'm fine, Vila," he reassured him. "Just a little weak and dizzy. Help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

"Right!" The small thief took firm hold of Avon and pulled him up with him as he got to his feet. He half walked, half dragged the technician with him as he made a beeline back to the vent.

Cally had her head and arms stuck out of the shaft. "Hurry, Vila," she urged as the room darkened ominously.

Vila roughly shoved Avon against the wall, propping him up with his shoulder as he grabbed the technician's arms, extending them up to Cally. "Grab 'em," he ordered. "You pull, I'll push." He felt a chill in the cabin and a presence, malevolent, behind him. He started to turn toward it.

"No! Vila, don't look! Just hurry! Push!" The snapped command was echoed and supplemented with a similar telepathed message.

He obeyed. The fear in Cally's voice gave him a surge of strength. Grabbing Avon's knees, he lifted him up. Cally disappeared down the shaft like a rabbit down a hole and the technician's arms, head and torso quickly followed suit as she pulled him along with her. Vila took hold of Avon's ankles and heaved them in; the power of the movement, coupled with the low and unsteady gravity, sliding Avon completely out of sight. A heartbeat later, Vila had leaped nimbly into the vent after him, not a wasted move in the process as his fear spurred him on.

He scrambled down the passageway and came up against Avon's feet. A strong sense of impending danger made him put his head down and burrow in, shoving Avon's body quickly ahead of him. Suddenly, his own feet felt icy and something brushed against them. He yelped in panic and charged forward.

* * * * *

Blake was straining up on his toes, trying to peer down the shaft. "I think they are headed back already," he said to Gan. He listened intently, then said, "They're moving fast! Let's get them out of there as quickly as possible. Be ready."

He had barely finished when Cally's feet slid into view. He took hold and yanked, drawing her smoothly out of the vent.

"Hurry!" she urged as Gan caught up Avon's wrists from her and in one powerful move, had him out of the duct. He leaned the computer expert up against her and reached back in for Vila.

Their fear and tension were contagious. Gan stretched an arm as far as possible into the duct. "Move it, Vila!" he shouted.

Vila surged into view, his eyes wide and unseeing with a blind panic. He was close to the end of the tunnel when he suddenly screamed and was jerked backwards. Gan gave a desperate lunge and caught one of Vila's hands. He gave a mighty pull and was surprised and horrified when the thief remained where he was.

"It's got me! Help! Help me, for God's sake!" Vila's voice rose in a terrified wail.

As Blake rushed to the vent's opening, Avon turned weakly to Cally. He was white, on the verge of passing out. "Telepath…Jenna…distract it…mustn't come on ship."

Cally understood and immediately sent the imperative message. //Jenna! We need your help. You must come to the entrance of this ship, but do not enter, no matter what. Please hurry!//

"He's slipping!" Gan was nearly beside himself with panic.

"Hold on to him!" Blake yelled, struggling to be heard over the dreadful, mindless screams that came from Vila.

"HE'S SLIPPING!!" shouted Gan.

Avon leaned limply against Cally, his head rolled onto her shoulder. "Shoot the ship…computer…anything…do it now!" he said, his voice a faint whisper, but imperative nonetheless.

Her gun was in her hand instantly. She fired on the first thing it was pointed at: a computer bank. It burst into flames and shook the flight deck.

"I've got him, he's coming!" Gan shouted. Then suddenly, Vila was out of the vent. Unconscious, he dangled limply from Gan's grasp. The big man scooped him up, and looked to Blake.

The rebel leader grabbed Avon from Cally, pulling the technician's arm over his shoulder to support the nearly unconscious man. "Right! Cally, lead the way! LET'S MOVE IT!"

* * * * *

The small group bolted down the hallways as Cally unerringly led them closer to the LIBERATOR and safety.

The ship began to shudder; horrible groans and creaks rebounded down the hallways as the structure of the vessel began to twist. The corridor in front of them canted impossibly. Nightmarish visions barred their way, but the group darted through them. As Avon became a dead weight, either unconscious or completely incapacitated, Blake reached down and effortlessly picked him up. He caught up with the others in no time.

The corridor went black and a frigid, bitter blast of wind raced around them, coming from the depths of the ship. In the darkness, Blake bumped into Gan and then leaned into him, protectively pressing them both against the wall, trying to shelter their burdens from the icy gusts.

"Cally!" shouted Blake. "Where are you?"

//Here, Blake. I'm beside you.// Her voice was calm inside his head. //The light on my suit is not working; I am going to try yours.//

Suddenly, a brilliant light was shining toward them from the end of the passageway. One lone figure was silhouetted by the blinding light, its arm beckoning.

"Blake! Run for it! Cally, keep them moving!" Jenna 's clear voice carried over the howling wind.

Blake and Gan pushed off from the wall and staggered forwards. Cally, lighter in build, was unable to gain ground. Gan caught sight of her from the corner of his eye. Realizing her plight, he reached back, snagged her arm and pulled her close, drawing the telepath with him as he struggled against the wind.

They were close to the airlock of the Stellar Breeze when the hatch started to close. Jenna reached down, picked up a long, narrow tool from its storage place at the end of the conduit and shoved it in the doorway. The hatch stopped closing, then started again as the pole slowly gave, bowing up in the middle.

Blake leapt over the obstruction, still holding onto Avon. Jenna gave the rebel leader a push, urging him further up the conduit. "Keep going," she ordered. "Don't stop till you're in LIBERATOR!"

Gan pushed Cally through next, the door only half open. Once on the other side, she turned to help him get Vila through the narrow space. Gan hurriedly passed the thief's legs to her and, supporting his shoulders, edged him through. The big man quickly followed, barely able to squeeze past the unstoppable hatch.

"Hurry!" Jenna urged, hustling them ahead of her. She ran sideways, her gun aimed behind her, guarding their escape.

She suddenly stopped, her eyes widening as she realized a black shape was flowing through the hatch toward them. Taking careful aim, she fired a shot at the tool that was propping the airlock open. The fiery energy bolt hit the pole squarely, hurling it back into the ship and causing the dark shape to retract momentarily. The door clicked shut, sealing their pursuer on the opposite side. Jenna turned and ran as fast as she could for the safety of the LIBERATOR.

As she sealed the airlock behind her, Blake hit the communicator on the wall. "Zen, retract the docking tunnel, now!" He bent down to check Avon's condition.

The computer tech, who was seated on the floor, waved the rebel leader away. "I'm fine, Blake. Just get the ship as far from that as possible."

Blake hesitated, watching as Jenna ran from the room. "Right. Cally, Gan, get them both to the surgical unit." He trotted after Jenna.

Cally reached down to help Avon up. He was wobbly, but recovering quickly now that he was free of the influence of the other ship. He tolerated her steadying hand, but then he tried to follow Blake to the flight deck.

"No, you don't, Avon!" she said as she steered him back toward the surgical unit. "You need to be checked over first."

"It was worth a try," he said mildly as he allowed her to redirect him.

Gan followed, relieved that Avon had acquiesced so quickly, but still very worried about the unconscious form he carried so lightly.

On the flight deck, Jenna raced to her station. "Zen, put up a visual of the Stellar Breeze."

++Confirmed. Docking conduit has been fully retracted.++

The view screen came on and Jenna was shocked to see that the ghost ship had moved closer to them, the solar sails twisting nearer to the LIBERATOR's nacelles.

"Zen, disengage the tractor beams." She took a firm hold on the steering throttles and ordered, "Speed — reverse; standard by one eighth."

++Confirmed.++

Very carefully, she backed the ship away. From behind her, Blake demanded worriedly, "It's not coming after us, is it?"

"Doesn't matter even if it is; it won't catch us," Jenna said, determined. Finishing the maneuver, she said, "Zen, forward thrust, standard by three. Return us to our original course."

++Confirmed.++

The rebel leader came to stand next to her and together they watched the old derelict quickly fade away into the distance.

"I can't say that I'm sorry to see it go. Let's go down and see how the others are doing."

When they entered the surgical unit, they found Gan and Cally working on Vila as he lay on the exam table. Avon stood a few feet away, watching their ministrations. Blake and Jenna joined him, with the pilot asking. "How are you doing?"

The dark–haired technician spared them a glance. "According to the computer, I'm fine — save for a headache."

Blake stared at him, trying to figure out if there was a hidden message there. "And how do you feel?"

Avon raised his eyebrows slightly. "I have a headache."

Jenna shook her head and went to stand beside Cally. "How is he?" she asked, staring down at the unconscious thief.

The telepath was running a tissue regenerator over his lower legs. "He has some lacerations and frostbite here. Gan is setting up the healing lamp for his shoulder."

At Jenna 's puzzled expression, Gan explained. "I think I dislocated it when I pulled him out of the ventilation shaft," he said guiltily, turning on the ray.

Vila groaned and came slowly awake. Oh…I don't feel well," he complained.

"Not surprising, considering what you've been through," Gan said cheerfully.

Vila opened his eyes. "I feel like I've been pulled through a tarial cell." His glance flicked over his companions as he took a quick inventory. "I take it we've got away from that thing, eh?"

"It's far behind us," Jenna assured him.

Avon jerked his head toward Jenna. "You mean, you didn't blast it out of existence?" he asked incredulously.

"That's right. I wasn't sure what would happen if we fired on that ship, and I didn't want to take the risk."

"So you just left it drifting out there; a hazard to the next unfortunate group that comes across it?" he said, a trifle angry. "Did you think it would go nova if you fired the neutron blasters at it?" he asked scornfully.

She was unruffled. "I doubt it. But as a very wise man once said, 'Never, never doubt what people aren't sure about."' She turned to Blake, vaguely triumphant. "I'll be on the flight deck," she said. She paused on her way out, giving Vila a quick wink.

The others caught the gesture and turned to look at Vila in puzzlement. They were even more confused by Vila's delighted expression.

"What was that about?" Blake was suspicious.

The thief's grin disappeared without a trace to be replaced by the totally innocent expression that he was expert at. "What was what about?" he asked guilelessly.

Blake stared sourly at the smaller man, knowing it was futile to continue when Vila adopted this manner; Vila could go on for hours when he was like this and enjoy every second of it. "Never mind." He reached over and gave Vila's unhurt shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks for your help over there," he said, with a glance at Avon. "It was appreciated."

As Vila turned a smug look on the computer expert, Avon took a step closer. "I suppose you are waiting for me to thank you for saving my life?" he drawled.

Vila sensed a trap. "Maybe," he hedged.

"That's good. Because then I would expect an expression of gratitude for saving your life."

Vila was concerned. "What? When—"

Cally leaned forward, pulling down his trouser cuffs since she had finished with the regenerator. "It was Avon's idea for me to shoot the ship, to distract the presence enough so it let go and Gan could pull you out."

"Oh," Vila said thoughtfully. "Well, you know me — I'm never one to stand on formalities." He shifted his position slightly and then groaned. "Cally, could I have some soma, please? It really does hurt," he pleaded, giving her a mournful look.

"I suppose you deserve it this time," she said, turning to the medication cabinet.

"Great! How about the rest of you…the drinks are on the house!"

* * * * *

The ship had been drifting for centuries, alone and forgotten, through the icy emptiness of deep space. Vague currents of solar winds and the faintly greedy tugging of gravity from distant stars pushed and pulled the aimless vessel on its eternal voyage.

She was a dissatisfied ship. Her captain had been charged with delivering much needed supplies to new, precarious colonies. On her last journey, the captain had argued with his navigator. Emotions grew quickly, fueled by the prolonged closeness until violence struck, fatally and without reason. The navigator lay dead. Shocked and uneasy, the crew continued their voyage; the destined settlement was desperate for the food and tools they carried.

Suddenly, disaster hit then at their most vulnerable spot — a solitary meteor had penetrated the shields, crippling the navigation computer. The crew was unable to repair such extensive damage and, without the technical knowledge of a trained navigator, the ship was lost.

They radioed for help, but no reply was ever received. Alone in the desolate vacuum, they set out the array of solar sails to try to reach a port, any port. They were too far out though, even if the had known which direction to choose.

In the end, they all died; the hopelessness of their situation killing them faster than was natural. The captain survived the longest, driven by his guilt. The knowledge that he was responsible for their failure, and that perhaps the deaths of an untold number of colonists could also be laid at his feet, festered within him. He could not rest, not with the weight of this guilt surrounding him, binding him to the useless ship, the need to acquit himself of his obligation driving him into madness. And when he did die, he was unaware of it: the vacuum of space isolating his tormented, insane spirit to his ship.

And so, timed passed. The madness grew, evolving into the pure need to finish his task so he, too, could be free; free of that unbearable weight; free to fade away into oblivion….

END

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published in Southern Seven #4.


End file.
